Secrets That Brought Us Together
by Aspect92
Summary: When Hermione finds Draco in a very compromising situation, he fears that she will tell the school his secret to get him back for all the times he has bullied her. But when she doesn't he becomes intrigued and wants to learn why. Draco/Hermione
1. Introductions

**This is a new fan fiction I decided to write tonight. I have a basic plot figured out, but chances are it will probably change somewhere down the road. I was really unsuccessful with my other stories and never finished them. But I am determined to finish this one, no matter how long it takes. Basically this is a story about Draco and Hermione, both of whom share a common mourning, though they do not know it. They meet one fateful night and their whole lives are turned upside down, when they end up confiding in each other, things that even their closest friends don't know about them. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you all review it.**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing to do with the harry potter stories, only J.K Rowling owns them and I will love her forever for bringing him into my life. **

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Foreword

Draco Malfoy. In many people's eyes he has basically one level and that level is extremely shallow. On the outside he appears to value his looks, his money and his status above all else. He seems at his best when he is surrounded by beautiful girls and being admired for his infamy. He is arrogant and proud and enemy to the boy-who-lived and anyone associated with him.

Hermione Granger. A typical bookworm. She is friends to the most popular boy in school, Harry Potter, yet she has never let this go to her head. In fact she hates even the miniscule amount of attention that being associated to the boy-who-lived brings her. She prefers being by herself with only the company of a good book.

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy stared into his bedroom mirror. It was silver and had a frame that had been wrought into the shape of a serpent. It was a typical slytherin item, designed to tell people that he was part of the dark arts house and proud of it. He examined his reflection. He was handsome and knew it, his sleek; ice blonde hair gelled perfectly back off his pointed face and his silver eyes twinkling with arrogance and pride. In his opinion – and nearly every girl in the schools - he was the best looking lad at Hogwarts.

It was eight o'clock in the morning and he was getting ready to go to breakfast, all he had to do was sling on his coat, brush his teeth and he would be ready to leave. Reluctantly – for he adored looking at himself – he turned away from the mirror, and picked his leather jacket up off the bed. It had an emerald green trim to it, for although he was permitted to wear non-school uniform – being in seventh year – he still wanted the world to know that he was a Slytherin, not that anyone needed reminding. He was – with the obvious exception of the dark lord himself – the most infamous Slytherin there had ever been. He slung the jacket on and walked into his own, private, bathroom. He loved being a seventh year. It meant that he was head boy and got his own private bedroom and bathroom. He had loathed having to share with four other boys for the past six years. He did his teeth, took one last glance in the mirror and left his room.

The head boy and girl got their own private quarters. He was the head boy- obviously – and the head girl – much to his disgust – was the Gryffindor mudblood, Hermione Granger. He loathed everything about her, from her filthy blood, to her weird friendships with the blood traitor Ron Weasley and the brat-who-lived Harry Potter. He had to admit that he hardly ever saw Hermione, for when she was in their own private flat – for that was what it really was – she usually kept herself locked in her room. But he still hated the fact that she was so near to him.

The head boy and girl got the best rooms in the castle – apart from the teachers. It was like a two bedroom flat, with a living room, a small kitchen – though this was hardly ever used, as they usually ate in the great hall with everyone else – a decent sized bedroom each, and their own little bathrooms. It was set at the top of a tower, overlooking the black lake and it was the only reason that any of the students ever wanted to become head boy or girl.

Draco glanced casually over at Hermione's bedroom door as he walked through the living room, but he knew better that to expect her to be in there. She was a very weird girl and got up at five every morning to go and do a few hours studying in the library before breakfast. He had made the mistake of questioning her bizarre morning routine in their first week of being head boy and girl. He had asked her if she was alright in the head, after he she had woken him up by tripping over her own feet, when she had been leaving one morning. He had got up to see what she was doing and found her, fully dressed with an armful of books in her hands, making her way out of the portrait hole. He regretted questioning her immediately, because – as he soon learnt – Hermione was not a morning person, though she still insisted on forcing herself up, and in a bad morning mood, she had thrown a very heavy encyclopedia of toadstools at him, which missed him by inches, but put a large dent in the wall next to him. After that he left her to her strange routines and tried to go back to sleep whenever she tripped over outside his door or dropped one of her brick sized books on her own foot. For there was something else about Hermione that he had never noticed before - never having had such close contact with her – which was that she was extremely clumsy.

Draco pushed open the portrait and stepped out into the hall. He made his way down the tower steps until he came out into a corridor. He strutted along it, loving the admiring glances he got from every girl he passed and eventually came to the great hall. It was already packed full of students eating breakfast and chatting happily together. He walked proudly over to the Slytherin table, and was greeted enthusiastically by everyone there. He sat down next to Pansy Parkinson, who immediately dropped her knife and fork, which she was using to eat her bacon and eggs and turned to face him, her pug-like face beaming.

"Morning, Draco," she purred, eyeing him up and down, "Did you sleep well?"

Malfoy grinned. He knew that Pansy fancied the pants off him and he loved it. He would never lower himself enough to go out with her, but he adored teasing her, giving her false hope every now and again that she might stand a chance with someone as brilliant as himself.

"I slept brilliantly, Pans," he said, his voice silky. He saw her melt when he used her nickname, "And you?"

"Great," she said quickly, gathering herself, "The hail was a bit noisy, but I fell asleep in the end."

Malfoy smiled, though he really couldn't care less if she didn't get a wink of sleep. He pulled a bowl towards him and filled it was porridge, pouring a generous amount of maple syrup onto it and tucking in.

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Hermione was late. She knew she was. She had fallen asleep in the library and had only just woken up. If she wanted to make it to the great hall in time to get some breakfast, she would have to run. She sprinted down the hall, skidding around the last corner, just in time to collide with Ron and Harry who were just leaving the hall.

"Hermione," Harry gasped, grabbing her before she hit the floor, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she panted, holding the stitch in her side, "Sorry."

"What happened to you? We saved you a place at breakfast, but you never showed up," demanded Ron, eyeing her with unflattering eagerness.

Hermione groaned quietly under her breath. She knew perfectly well that Ron had a thing for her, but the times when she had liked him back had long gone. She didn't want to become the next Lavender, thrashing around with Ron in public with everyone staring; she had higher standards than that.

"Sorry," she said again, "I fell asleep in the library. Have I missed breakfast?"

"Yes," said Harry, "But we saved you some," he produced two pieces of jammy toast out of nowhere.

"Thanks," said Hermione greatfully, taking the pieces and taking a large bite.

"Careful Granger, you don't want to make that backside any bigger."

Hermione spun around. Draco Malfoy was leaning in the Great Hall doorway, looking smugly at her.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Ron fiercely, "Hermione has a fantastic figure."

"Yeah, for an elephant," sneered Malfoy, reveling in the hurt expression on Hermione's face.

"Grow up," she snapped, turning around and stalking off, her face burning with embarrassment. She loathed him, she absolutely loathed him. From his smug face to his foul attitude. She could hear him sniggering until she turned the corner and strode off, Harry and Ron jogging along behind her; struggling to keep up with her brisk march. They caught up with her when they reached their first class of the day; transfiguration. They tried to engage her in conversation, telling her that she needed to just ignore Malfoy and that he was a nasty piece of work who just needed a good slap. But she refused to be engaged and stood in silence, her face like thunder, until they were called into the lesson.

When Professor McGonagall started talking, Hermione's mind was a million miles away. She knew she shouldn't have given Malfoy the satisfaction of getting to her like that, but she knew why he had. Everything had been a hundred times harder since she had come back from Australia at the end of the summer holidays. She had told no one that she was going, not even Ron or Harry, and she had told no one what had transpired there, and she had no plans to. She didn't want anyone to know, because if she spoke it aloud then it was make it true and unchangeable, but if she never spoke about it, then she could just about convince herself that it wasn't true and that everything was fine; for she could not bring herself to accept that her parents really were dead.

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**So that was the first chapter. It does get better, I promise. Please review and I'll update tomorrow evening if I've finished by then. Please review and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**XXX**


	2. Death

**Hello, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and the first one. **

Draco Smirked as he watched Hermione stalk off, Potty and Weasel King trotting along behind her. Taunting Granger was one of his favourite pass-times and if he had done his job well enough, she would be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. He was still sniggering to himself when Pansy appeared next to him. She beamed and put her chubby arms around his waist, purring in his ear, "What are you doing, Draky?"

Draco shivered; he hated her stupid nicknames, though not as much as the feel of her arms around him.

"Are you cold?" she asked, clueless as ever about how much he truly detested her.

"No," he said roughly, pushing her away.

She looked affronted for a moment, but didn't say anything, though as they walked silently to their first lesson, A History of Magic, she made no further attempts to touch him.

That morning's lessons were just as tedious as ever, so Draco made the time pass by having a paper aeroplane war with Blaise Zabini across the classroom, not even caring when one of the aeroplanes flew right through their ghost professor's head. Not that he noticed; he was too busy ploughing through a list of dates concerning something Draco had long forgotten.

There were only ten minutes left of the class, when there came a soft knocking on the classroom door. Professor Binns looked up, startled, as ever, to see that his class was full of sleepy students. He stared blankly at the door, as though wondering what on earth was going on. Only after the knocker had knocked for the fifth time, did he say, in his quavery, uncertain voice, "Come in."

The door opened slowly and in stepped Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School. He looked as grand as ever, his long white beard tied in a long plait down his front and was tucked safely in his belt to stop himself from tripping over it. He was wearing robes of deep turquoise and had his trademark, half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his slightly crooked nose. His eyes, which were a dazzling blue, were not however, sparkling as they usually did. They seemed to project sadness.

"I am so sorry, Professor Binns, for disturbing your lesson," he said politely, and there was a definite note of sorrow in his voice as he spoke, "But may I borrow one of your students?"

"Of course," croaked the ghost professor, seeming to have come around a bit, "Anyone in particular?"

"Draco Malfoy if you don't mind."

Draco, who had not been paying much attention to this conversation, but who had instead been carving obscene things into the desk using his wand, looked up at the mention of his name.

"Draco," said Dumbledore, turning to look at him, "Will you please come with me?"

Completely nonplussed, Draco got up, shoved all his things back into his bag, shrugged at Blaise, who was giving his a curious look, and followed the head out of the classroom, closing the door behind him.

They walked in silence to Dumbledore's office, Draco wondering what on earth could be so important that he had been pulled out of a lesson. They eventually reached the twin gargoyles which guarded the secret entrance to the head teaches office, Dumbledore murmured, "bonbon," under his breath and the statues sprung to life, jumping aside to reveal a hidden, revolving staircase. Dumbledore stepped on the bottom step and was whisked up to the top, Draco right behind him. By the time he reached the very top, Dumbledore was already seated behind his desk, a letter in his hand and a concerned look of his wrinkled face. Draco entered the circular office and the headmaster gestured him to the seat opposite him, "Please take a seat. I have something very important to tell you."

Feeling distinctly uneasy, Draco took the seat he was being offered, putting his bag on the floor as he did so.

"What's happened?" he asked abruptly, sick of being in the dark.

Dumbledore did not answer immediately. Instead he looked down at his long fingered hand and sighed, "I do not know quite how to start this..."

_That's a first, _thought Draco, it was not like the headmaster to be lost for words.

"A terrible, terrible thing has happened..."

Draco felt his heart quicken, wondering what was going on.

"Approximately half an hour ago I received this letter by urgent owl," he pointed to the letter on his desk, "It is from St Mungo's Hospital..."

It felt like his heart was going to rip through his chest at any moment. Who was hurt?"

"I am so, so deeply sorry to be the one to have to tell you this Draco, but it is your parents.."

Draco's breath caught in his throat.

"They have been killed."

His heart had stopped, yet why was he still alive? He could not feel anything; he seemed to be floating, blackness all around him.

"Draco, Draco."

Shut up, he wanted to shout, leave me alone, let me die; I have nothing to come back for. Yet even as these hopeless thoughts came into his mind, the light was returning, as was his hearing and touch.

He blinked and opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was leaning over him. He tried to sit up, but Dumbledore pushed him back.

"Don't move just yet," he said kindly, "Let the potion sink in for a minute. You fainted," he said unnecessarily, for now Draco was remembering again.

"How?" he moaned.

"Shock," said Dumbledore with a sympathetic smile.

"No," said Draco in a harder voice than he had meant, "How did they die?"

Dumbledore looked at Draco sadly, holding out his hand to help him up. Draco took it, suddenly feeling very sick. He didn't know if he wanted to know. Dumbledore led him back to the chair behind his desk. The panic was beginning to set in again as the headmaster made his way back around to his seat.

"Wait," Draco cried desperately, deciding right at that moment that he didn't want to know how it had happened, "No!"

"What's wrong?" asked Dumbledore quickly, clearly under the impression that he was not feeling well again.

"I don't want to know," he said, fighting to keep back his sobs, "I don't."

"Draco," said Dumbledore seriously, giving Draco his usual x-raying look, "I think it would be best for you to-"

"I think I know what is best for me, and I don't want to know," shot back Draco, standing up; "I'm leaving now."

"Draco, please," said Dumbledore kindly, standing up too, "Don't go yet, not in this state."

But Draco didn't answer; he just picked up his bag, swung it over his shoulder and left the office.

**Hey everyone. Thanks for reading and I hope you like this chapter. Things will start happening on the Dramione front in either the next chapter or the one after that. Please, Please, Please review. I got none on my first chapter and it is really disheartening. I don't see the point in continuing if nobody even likes it. I got one author alert which was nice, so thankyou to mickey823, it is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm sorry I didn't upload as quick as I said I was going to, but my laptop has been buggered up recently and isn't working too well. I'll try upload quicker in future. Please review. Aspect92 x**


	3. Breaking Down Barriers?

**Thank you all so so much for all your comments, they were much appreciated and I am glad that you are all enjoying the story so much. This is chapter 3 and I hope you all like it as much as the other two.**

Chapter 3

Hermione rested her head on her arms, barely paying attention to what Professor McGonagall was saying about Vampreesha, a spell that allows you to create any surrounding you wish. No, Hermione's thoughts were a million miles away from obscure spells that she would never use, for ever since Voldemort's defeat last year, all of her adventures had finished. She was still a member of the Order of the Phoenix, though now they spent most of their time simply rounding up groups of rebel death eaters, so she wasn't needed that often. Right now though, Hermione's thoughts were with her parents. At the end of the summer holidays, just after Voldemort's defeat, she had gone to Australia to try and track them down. But someone had got to them first. Bellatrix Lestrange. Avada Kedavra. Her poor muggle parents had not stood a chance. Hermione had got to the house just in time to see Bellatrix leaving it, a maniacal smirk on her face. Hermione had tried to confront her, but had nearly gotten killed as a result. Bellatrix had left her half dead and bleeding next to her parents lifeless bodies. She had had just enough energy to cast a simple healing charm on herself before passing out. She had come round a few hours later, tired, but relatively unhurt. But then came the task of what to do with her parent's bodies. It had nearly killed her emotionally, but she had done the only thing that she could, she had made it look as though her parents had committed suicide. Then she had left, left to continue on with her life as an orphan. She had no one left. No one except Ron, Harry and Ginny, but this was one adventure she knew she could not share with them. It was her burden to bear, not theirs. So she had returned to Hogwarts, got on with her life, the giant scar across her stomach the only souvenir of what had happened. But no, there was another souvenir, the fear. She was scared all the time, scared that no one had found her parents bodies and that they still lay, cold, decaying and alone in their living room in Australia, scared that people will see her pain and want to help, because that was the one thing she didn't want and that was sympathy, because it would only make things worse, make things real. But most of all, and this was the fear that haunted her every moment; she was terrified that Bellatrix Lestrange might come back for her. Come back to kill her. She shuddered at the thought. Trying to pull her mind away from the scene that she dreamt of every night, the scene of her parents, dead but unmarked, sprawled along the living room floor. Her father had been in front of her mother; maybe he had thrown himself to protect her? Her mother had been slightly further back, her head inches from the wall, her legs bent and broken. Hermione screwed up her face, shaking her head in a vain attempt to rid her mind of these images.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

She looked up, the entire class, including professor McGonagall were staring at her. She knew why, she must have looked like a crazy person, sitting with her head in her arms, shaking it roughly.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "I'm fine. Sorry Professor, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Are you're alright?" asked Professor McGonagall looking concerned.

"Really I'm fine, just nodded off for a minute."

"In that case, class has finished, so you can all leave," said the Professor, giving Hermione an inquisitive look from underneath her glasses.

Hermione avoided her gaze, put all her stuff in her bag and hurried out of the classroom.

She dodged Ron and Harry, both of whom were firing questions and queries at her and as soon as she could, she ran into the girl's bathroom on the second floor, remembering too late that this was Moaning Myrtles bathroom.

"What's up with you, Grangy?" cackled Myrtle, in a surprisingly good mood for once.

"Leave me alone, Myrtle," snapped Hermione, turning to leave the bathroom at once, "I'm seriously not in the mood."

"Touchy touchy," said Myrtle, swooping down and blocking the door.

Hermione huffed, she had no wish to walk through Myrtle and have the sensation of being plunged head first into a bucket of ice. Instead she turned around and headed for the nearest cubical, slamming and locking the door behind her.

"Not much for chatting are you, Granger," said Myrtle, sticker her head through the door and grinning, "When you were with Potter and Weasley you were chatty enough."

"Myrtle," said Hermione loudly, "I. AM. NOT. IN. THE. MOOD. Why can't you get that?"

"Hermione?"

She looked up, "Ginny?" she asked uncertainly.

Myrtle stuck her tongue out and disappeared out of sight, as Hermione stood up and unlocked the cubical door.

"Harry and Ron said that you were in here and that they were worried about you," said Ginny without preamble, her long, fire red hair dangling in her eyes as she placed one hand on her tiny hip.

Hermione groaned under her breath, this was exactly what she didn't want to have happen. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to avoid looking directly into Ginny's hazel eyes.

"Come on, Hermione," she said sternly, "I've known you for six years; I know when you're not being yourself. You can tell me anything."

"I'm fine, really I am," said Hermione, trying hard to convince herself as well as Ginny, "I'm just tired. Too many late nights. I'll get an early night tonight and I'll be fine again tomorrow."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, she wasn't being fooled, "Hermione," she said reproachfully, "You know you can tell me."

Excuses were flooding through Hermione's mind, and then it struck her, "Homework."

"What?"

"I only got an E on a piece of homework I did."

Ginny still seemed concerned, but slightly mollified by this excuse, "You need to chill out more when it comes to exams, Hermione. School isn't the be all and end all of everything, you know."

"Yeah," she said, glad that Ginny had swallowed this excuse without complaint, "Well I better go or I'll miss my next class. See you Gin."

"Bye."

Hermione almost ran from the bathroom, but she had no intention of going to her class, she was going to her room, her sanctuary. And so, tears flooding down her face, Hermione Granger skipped lessons for the first time in living memory.

Draco stormed from the office, not paying any attention to where he was going, and not even caring. He just had to run, to get away. As he ran down the corridors and halls he felt as though he was running away from the truth about his parents, but it was catching up to him and quickly. Without realizing it, he had come to the entrance of the Head Boy and Girls quarters and to his great surprise he saw a mane of frizzy brown hair disappearing through it. Surely Hermione Granger couldn't be skipping lessons, that was way too unhermioneish. But as he pushed open the portrait of the fat old man with a beard so large it covered half his body, he distinctly saw her door snap shut. The sudden curiosity and bewilderment momentarily drew every other thought from his mind, he went over to her bedroom door and – arrogant as ever –barged straight in. To his horror, Hermione was sat on her bed crying her eyes out.

"Wow Granger," he gasped, shocked that she was even able to cry, because in all the years that he had bullied and tormented her, never once had she let one tear fall, "What's up with you?"

"GET LOST MALFOY," she shrieked at the top of her lungs, not wanting to be within spitting distance of him right now.

Draco knew better than to harass her in this mood. Instead he left, shutting the door behind himself and made his way over to his own room, the silent fears that had vanished in the shock of seeing Hermione, ebbing slowly back into his mind.

Hermione crawled under her covers, pulling them over her head, letting the sobs rumble through her as Malfoy slammed the door shut. She hated him so much it was unbelievable, he was so up himself. Who did he think he was, barging in here without knocking, he was such a textbook Slytherin.

She didn't know when her bitter thoughts about Malfoy turned into dreams; all she knew was that the sound of the portrait slamming shut woke her with a start. She pulled the covers off her head and stretched. What was Malfoy doing now? She pulled her dressing gown on and opened her bedroom door, but the living room was deserted and she could see a light under Malfoy's bedroom door, so he must be in there. She yawned and went back into her room. She shut the door and flicked the light on, before going over to her wardrobe to get into her pyjamas. She glanced in the mirror on the reverse side of her door.

Hermione had never been a ravishing beauty, but she was not ugly. She had a heart shaped face and chocolate brown eyes. Her lips were full, but slightly faded and her hair was an enormous mass of brown curls. She ran her hands through it, trying to tame it, but in seventeen years she hadn't succeeded and she doubted that she would now. She was not fat by any means, but curvy, she had a bum and hip and was proud of them, she couldn't be doing with these stick insects who only cared about their appearance and thought that if you got the tiniest bit of cellulite or one stretch mark that you suddenly became completely hideous and should wear a paper bag on your head forever more.

She pulled off her jeans and shirt and pulled on her red pyjamas, quickly plaiting her hair to keep it out of her way. Deciding that she should keep her mind busy, so as not to start dwelling again, she went over to her window where her bookcase was. What to read? What to read? She pondered, running her finger over the spines of her beloved books. Ahh, she knew. Brambly Hedge. It had been her favourite as her child. So pulling it out of the shelf, she settled herself on the windowsill, where she had made herself a nice little seat of cushions.

But before she had even opened the first page, something out of the window caught her eye. It was a figure, tall and muscular, walking across the grounds towards the Black Lake, vanishing moments later into the trees that surrounded it.

A feeling stirred inside Hermione that she had not felt for a long time. She was curious, there was a mystery and she had to discover it. So without thinking that this was going to be dangerous or that she was going to be breaking about a hundred school rules, she jumped down from her window sill and hurried out of the Heads Quarters.

It was cold in the corridor, but she was moving too quickly to care. Soon she reached the entrance hall, thankfully she had met no one on her way down and she used "Alohamora" on the oak doors. They creaked open and she glancing nervously behind her, before running out into the snowy night air.

When she was half way towards the clump of trees that surrounded the lake, the enormity of what she was doing hit her and she stopped in her tracks.

Should she go back? Before anyone realised she was gone, most of all Malfoy, because he would not hesitate in alerting Filch to her rule breaking. Or should she carry on? She had made it this far hadn't she?

She dithered in the snow, growing colder and colder, but finally she decided that she might as well carry on, now that she had started. So, more cautiously this time, with her wand held high, illuminating the way she crept into the shelter of the trees.

Before long she could see the moon glimmering of the surface of the lake and the waves lapping against the shore making a soft, soothing, whooshing sound. But there was another noise as well, a noise that made her stop dead. It was the sound of someone sobbing.

Confused she continued forward, careful not to step on any twigs. The trees began to thin and she saw the figures she had seen out of her bedroom window, lying down in the snow, staring up at the stars, crying its heart out. Hermione moved a little closer until she could see the face of the person in front of her and she was so shocked she cried out, for it was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Lying in the middle of the night, in the snow, next to the Black Lake, crying!!

Malfoy looked up at the sound of her gasp and her shock was mirrored on his face.

They stood there for a full five seconds, just staring at one another. Draco's silver eyes blood shot, his ice white skin, tear stained and blotchy.

No one could possibly have blamed Hermione if she had burst out laughing at that moment and ran back to the castle to tell everyone that she had seen the prince of darkness crying like a girl. But she didn't. She stared curiously at Malfoy and felt no resentment or anger, or any of the other feelings she usually associated with him. All she felt was pity.

She moved forward slightly, though still neither of them spoke a word and she knelt down next to him.

Draco broke the silence, his voice was angry, though Hermione could still detect the sadness beneath the embarrassed rage, "What are you doing here?" he snapped, his eyes burning, "Get lost, you filthy mudblood."

Hermione flinched but didn't move, "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to mind your own business?" he said, his voice almost a shout, "Or did being in the golden trio give you the impression that everyone cares what you think?"

"Malfoy, you can be an arse as much as you want, I'm not going anywhere," said Hermione firmly.

Malfoy glared at her, but his face broke.

"What's happened?" Hermione asked seriously, pulling her dressing gown around her.

And suddenly, and even he didn't understand it, Draco Malfoy, King of Purebloods, found himself spilling his heart out, onto the shoulder of the Mudblood, best friend of Harry Potter, Hermione Granger.

"It's my parents," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

"What's happened to them?"

"They've died."

"Oh my god," Hermione gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth in shock. She didn't know what she had been suspecting, but it hadn't been that, "How?"

He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky, "No idea. I didn't stay long enough to find out."

"What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore pulled me out of A History of Magic this morning and told me, but I was scared," he flinched at the word as though it were on fire, "I ran before he got time to tell me and I'm too scared to go back. I don't know if I want to know."

"But surely it's better to know the truth , than to be forever living in the dark, wondering what really happened and imagining it being much worse than it might have been?" she asked carefully, not wanting to ignite his rage.

"I know, but I can't. I can't bring myself to do it," he gasped, wiping his face clumsily with his sleeve.

"Draco," it was the first time she had ever used his first name and he looked up at her in surprise.

"Yes?"

"I-" she faulted, not sure whether to continue, "I'd come with you, if you wanted me to."

Draco was so touched by her kindness that he was silent. He was not used to people being kind to him and it was an odd feeling.

"No," he said non-the-less, he still had a reputation to uphold no matter how kind she was, "You can't."

"Your reputation that important to you?"

"It's not just that. I really don't want to know. Not now anyway."

Hermione had no idea what to say. She just put her arm around Draco and sat with him while he cried.

The sun was coming up when she finally said that they should make a move. But a change had come over Draco, he would not stand anywhere near her or make eye contact and would only communicate with her by grunts and nods. She didn't understand it, she had thought she had finally broken through the hard shell of Draco Malfoy and found his soft sensitive side, but apparently he was a far more complex person that she realised. So she let him walk in silence, thanking god that it was a Saturday and she could go back to bed and sleep in.

**Hi, so the wall between them is starting to break. I really hope you like this chapter. I'm not too sure about it. Please review and tell me what you think. I might not be able to upload for a while because my computer is going to be repaired, but I promise that when I get it back I'll upload two chapters at once. Please rate and review. Oh yes and I'm going to start being a beta reader if I'm suitable, so come to me if you want me to help with your stories. xxx**


	4. Bridges

**Hey everyone. I am so sorry for the delay in the update, my laptop broke down and i had to get a new one and it's this whole complicated story, but now I'm finally uploading again!!**

**I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter and thanks for the reviews!!!!!! ; )**

**Chapter 4**

Draco woke with a start. What time was it? He looked over at the clock on his bedside table and gasped, the face read 4:00pm! Why had he slept in so much? He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

"OH MY GOD!" he shrieked as the memory of the previous evening began creeping back into his mind. Granger, the mudblood Granger, hugging him as he sobbed into her shoulder about his parents deaths. What was the matter with him? Had he been drunk? He sat bolt upright in bed and looked around bewildered. Why had she been so nice? He screwed his face up with humiliation as he realised why. She had been pretending! Pretending so that he would tell her everything. She was probably in Gryffindor Tower right now laughing about it with Potter and the Weasley's. Draco sprung out of bed, grabbing his jeans and jacket as he went, he had to get to her before she told the whole school his secret. But how many people could she have told by now? One word to Weasley and the whole school would know in seconds. The entire reputation that the Malfoy's had worked so hard to sustain for centuries, destroyed in a single moment, simply because he couldn't keep his problems to himself.

He hopped through the living room, forcing his jeans on over his pyjama bottoms, and had just managed to do up the last button of his jacket when he fell through the portrait hole. He rocketed down the tower steps and thundered into the main corridor. It was swarming with people, but the atmosphere was just the same as ever. There was no buzz of excited conversation or gossip, nothing what so ever. He wasn't even getting any funny looks, except of course from those people who had realised he was not wearing shoes. This eased his nerves slightly, but heightened his sense of confusion, why had she not told anyone? No one would have been able to blame her, he had made her life hell for seven years. Most people would say he had got what was coming to him. But this was a weapon that most people would swap their wands for. The chance to take down a Malfoy, it was priceless, yet she was not using it. He had to find out why. But where was she? The castle was enormous, she could be anywhere. No, not anywhere, this was Granger he was talking about. There were only two places she would; Gryffindor Tower or the Library. So he only had one option, for if she was in Gryffindor Tower he couldn't get to her, so, readying himself for a fight, he heading off in the direction of the Library, praying that she was indeed there.

Five minutes later he poked his head around the Library door and instantly spotted Granger sat amid a sky high pile of books, busily scratching something onto a long piece of parchment with her eagle feather quill. He took a deep breath, and checking to make sure that Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, marched over to her.

"Who have you told?" he demanded the moment he was near enough that she could hear him.

She jumped and knocked over her pile of books, he did nothing to help her pick them up.

"Hello to you too," said Hermione, scowling at him, she had thought that they had built some bridges last night, but apparently not

"Who have you told?" he demanded again, his eyes burning holes in her face.

"Told who about what?" she asked bewildered, putting the last book back onto the desk.

"You know perfectly well what," Draco snarled, moving closer to her so she couldn't escape.

"What, about your pa-"

"Say one more word and I'll curse you into obivion," he said, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice calm.

Hermione was getting angry now, what had she done? "I haven't told any one, Malfoy," she hissed, "And if you really think I would then you have an even lower opinion of me that I thought."

He didn't know what to say. He was sure she must have an ulterior motive, he just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Now, if you don't mind I have an Arithmancy report due on Monday and I would like to finish it without being screamed at."

Draco stood there, not exactly sure what to do, he didn't want to leave and admit defeat, yet the look Granger was giving made him sure she would not hesitate in hurting him if he did not obey. He decided on a compromise; he would leave, mainly to save himself from pain, but he would get to the bottom of this if it killed him. So, without looking at Granger, he turned around and stalked out of the Library, muttering curses under his breath.

Draco didn't exactly know how he was going to find out what Granger's ulterior motive was, all he knew was that he had to know, and so his stalking days began. He would follow her to the Library and watch her, eavesdropping on her conversations and jumping if anyone mentioned his name. He would lurk outside Gryffindor Tower and wait for her to come out just to analys her expression and even try a bit of Legimency on her to try and coax out the real reason, though so far all his attempts had been futile. There was one unusual thing though, Hermione Granger, the mudblood-know-it-all, had a secret! A secret that even the most extensive Legimency could not coax out of her and Draco dearly wanted to know what it was. For something was happening to him you see, something he would never have expected in a million years, he was becoming increasingly obsessed with Granger and that frightened him to no end.

This secret that she had was a strange thing, it had clearly caused her a lot of pain, so instinctively she had buried it deep in her subconscious where she would not be able to think about it unless she really had to. She had hidden it so well that even Legimency could not bring it forth and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that even Potter and Weasely didn't know about it.

Draco was lying on the sofa in front of the blazing fire in the flat he and Hermione shared. He was staring up at the ceiling, wondering what on earth this secret could be. He looked up when the portrait hole snapped shut and in stepped Granger, her arms ladened with books of all shapes and sizes. She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans, trainers and a thick woollen grey jumper. She jumped when she saw Draco staring at her and dropped all her books onto the floor. He did nothing to help her pick them up, he just sneered at her as she bent to retrieve them.

"Jumpy Granger?" he asked nastily, "Not hiding anything are you?"

Hermione scowled at him, though she looked slightly guilty, "Shut up, Ferret," she hissed angrily.

"Now, now, play nice," he said softly, reminding her irrisistably of his father, she shuddered.

"Seriously what is your problem?" she asked irritably, "And why have you been following me so much lately?" she could hardly have failed to realise that he turned up wherever she was

Draco was pulled up short by this, he hadn't realised that she had noticed, "Get over yourself, mudblood," he said, trying to cover himself, "My life, surprisingly, doesn't revolve around you."

Hermione flinched at the offensive word, but could tell by his bravado that she had caught him out, "Oh come on," she said with a slight laugh, "I've spent the last seven years of my life in the Library and in all that time I think I've seen you in there once, and that was because you were snogging the Library Assistant. Yet now you spend most of your time either there or sneaking around near Gryffindor Tower. I'd have to be a moron not to notice you creeping about everywhere."

Draco was silent, he didn't know what to say. He had been so careful, yet still she had seen him, "I was just... checking," he said, dropping the pretense.

"Checking wha-" but she stopped and an irritated look flashed across her face, "You still think I'm going to tell everyone about your parents don't you?"

Draco flinched at the mention of his parents, he had been so caught up in Hermione recently that he had been able to keep thoughts of them at bay.

"Just because you don't have a heart," continued Hermione furiously, "And only ever use people to get what you want, doesn't mean that everyone does. I was genuinely concerned about you, God knows why, but I was," there were angry tears in her eyes and this shocked Draco, because in all the years he had bullied her she had never shed a single tear, not even the time she had slapped him. He didn't know what to say, he wasn't used to people being nice to him. One of the main traits of a Slytherin was that you looked after number one, everyone else came last. No one had ever really cared about him.

"I-I'm sorry," he found himself saying, the words tasted funny in his mouth, he had never apologised before, "I'm just not used to people being genuinely nice and not having an ulterior motive behind it. I mean, I've been foul to you for years, I was sure you'd go and tell Potter and Weasley immediately."

"My life doesn't revolve around then you know," said Hermione and there was an icy bite to her voice, "They have their secrets and I have mine. We aren't joined at the hips."

Draco frowned, he knew she had secrets, he just wished he knew waht they were.

Hermione scowled, she had kept the secret of her parents so well, no one knew, not Harry, not Ron, not Ginny, not anyone and that was how it was going to stay. She looked at Draco, at his pale pointed face and knew that he was suffering just the same as she was. It was weird to have something in common with Draco Malfoy, it felt wrong. She sighed and put her books on the coffee table; she wished she had someone to share her secret with, someone she trusted completely and who she knew would understand. She had considered Harry, but he was so immature these days that she hadn't dared to tell him anything, so she had buried it deep inside her where she could just about ignore it. Knowing that one day it would burst from her, though trying to keep thoughts like that at bay.

**So, real bridges have been built now and Hermione has realised that Draco may understand how she is feeling. How will it turn out? Wait and see!!!!**

**Please RATE and REVIEW!!!**


	5. Truthes

**Hello everyone. I am so sorry for the immense delay between the last chapter and this one, I've been busy writing my own, original story, so have not had a lot of time for this one, but I said at the beginning that I would finish it and I will. I really hope you like this chapter, it was a bit rushed because I wanted to finish it, but I promise I will update more often. Please Rate and Review. xxx**

**Chapter 5**

Hermione picked up her guitar, she hadn't played it since before Bill and Fleur's wedding. She had always loved music so much, but it was her special, private thing, not even Harry and Ron knew she played, she didn't want people knowing. Her guitar was made simply out of light wood, but she had carved three flowers onto the front using her wand. She pulled the strap over her shoulder and let her fingers slide over the strings, the noise made her smile; this was her best and oldest friends. She played a few notes, just to warm up and then began properly, for the past few days a song had been in her head and she knew that it was meant to be for her parents, she wanted to write them a song, something that would bring her close to them. So she began playing, just letting her fingers do the work, not thinking about it, letting the music flow from her.

Draco pulled on his jumper and looked at his reflection, he was so fit, he thought to himself, but then he stopped, he had heard something. Music. He opened his door to investigate, it was the most beautiful melody he had ever heard, it was light and flowed perfectly, yet there was definitely sorrow behind it. He realised that it was coming from Hermione's room; she had her door open ajar. He crept over to listen some more, he had never known that she played guitar and she was good, very good. He peered through the crack in the door and saw that she was sat on her bed, her legs crossed and her eyes closed; she was swaying in time to the rhythm. He smiled, she looked... content. He pulled the door open a bit more, but as it creaked Hermione stopped, she looked up in surprise. She froze when she saw him, her cheeks flushing with colour.

"What are you doing?" she asked embarrassed that he had discovered her secret.

"Listening," he said softly, moving further into the room, "I never realised you played."

"Why would you?" she shot back at him, "The only interest you've ever paid me is to be snide and spiteful."

He winced at the harshness in her voice, but knew she was right. He regretted it all now. He wished he had spared the time to get to know her.

"I know," he said sadly, sitting on the edge of her bed, "I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't say anything, she was looking at his eyes, they showed true regret, the first time she had seen that in him.

"You know I used to play a little guitar when I was younger, my Uncle taught me," he said, trying to get the conversation on a more cheerful topic.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's been ages since I played though," he looked thoughtfully at the guitar and gently reached out and pulled the strap off her neck.

For some reason Hermione didn't stop him. She had never liked people touching her guitar before, but for some strange reason she didn't mind Draco touching it.

He slid it over his shoulder and placed his long, pale fingers on the strings, "Let's see if I remember," he said, smiling at her.

He ran his fingers down the strings and began to play a short melody. Hermione smiled, she could see that like her, his heart lay in the beautiful world of music. He stopped playing and saw that she was looking at him; he smiled slightly as their eyes met, but quickly looked away, his heart beating unusually fast. He pulled the guitar off his neck and handed it back to her.

"I have to go," he said quickly and hurried away, cursing his cowardice as he went. Why couldn't he let her in for more than a few minutes?

Hermione collapsed in a heap on her bed. What was wrong with her? This was Draco Malfoy, Prince of the Slytherin's, King of the womanisers. She needed to pull herself together. Yet, a small voice reasoned in the back of her mind, she was happy with him, he seemed to somehow fill the gaping chasm her parent's deaths had left. No, said a stronger voice, she was just being stupid, she was missing her parents and because she happened to see Malfoy more than anyone else, her mind had deluded itself that there was more to it than that. It was absurd to think that she could have feelings for a Malfoy, disgusting even. So, willing herself to believe these words, she headed down to breakfast.

Draco sat in the Slytherin common room, his head in his hands. He was wondering what Hermione was doing right now. Breakfast had been over hours ago and it was a Sunday. Maybe she was back at the flat, or perhaps in the library. He felt a sudden flash of heated anger, was she with Potter and Weasley? He suddenly didn't want her with anyone but himself. He felt... better, when he was with her, himself in a way he had never felt before, he was happy. She understood him, he didn't know how, but she did. Everything with his parents seemed more bearable, he knew that if he needed to he could talk to her. He had never felt like that about anyone before and it scared him.

"What's up with you?" It was Blaise Zabini, the dark skinned Slytherin. He sat on the sofa opposite Draco.

"Nothing," Draco snapped, pulling himself together.

"Sorry," said Zabini slightly nervously, he looked as though he was going to say something else, but clearly he didn't want to mess with fire. So instead turned around and walked off.

Draco sighed, he needed something to eat. He glanced at the large silver clock on the wall, it was 1:23. Lunch would be half way through, so he got up and left without a word to anyone.

When he entered the hall his eyes immediately darted to the Gryffindor Table in the hopes of spotting Hermione. He saw her immediately; she was sat between Weasley and Potter. She was talking animatedly to them and he saw that Weasley – his blood seemed to boil – Weasley had his filthy arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. Draco felt hot rage spiralling inside him; he turned around and stormed from the Great Hall, his breathing heavy and ragged, seeing red.

Hermione looked up, she saw Draco, a furious look on his face, leave the hall. She wondered what was wrong with him. Ron grinned at her and tightened his grip on her shoulder, she squirmed uncomfortable, she liked Ron very much, but she did wish he wouldn't be so touchy-feely. It made her uneasy. She wished she could go and see what Draco was doing, but every time she made a move to stand, Ron tightened his vice-like hold on her.

"Harry, have you finished your Potions homework yet?" she asked, remembering that it was due tomorrow and that as far as she knew he had not even started it yet, "You don't want Snape to put you in detention again."

"Nah," said Harry, putting his arm around Ginny, who was sat on the other side of him, "I can't be bothered with it."

"But you'll get into trouble if you don't finish it," she said desperately, wishing that the old, sensible Harry would return.

"I think I can handle Snape," he said with a laugh.

Hermione frowned, "If you say so. Look, I really need to get a book from the library, I'll see you later."

She shrugged off Ron, who looked very disgruntled, and hurried from the great hall, but she didn't go to the library, instead she headed in the opposite direction, to the Prefects Quarters.

Draco paced angrily across the living room of the Prefects flat; he didn't know where that sudden burst of fiery anger had come from. He groaned as the image of Ron with his arm around Hermione came floating into his mind again. He didn't want anyone to ever touch her, she was his. This sudden thought stunned him. Hermione? His? But even as the thought sunk in, he knew it was right. Hermione understood him like no one else had ever done before and he was not going to give her up without a fight.

The Portrait Hole creaked and Draco spun around. He saw to his great surprise that Hermione was climbing through it, she looked worried, though slightly relieved when she saw him standing there.

"Are you alright?" she asked kindly, walking over looking concerned.

"Fine," he said, his voice snappier than he had intended.

"What happened to you? I saw you leave the Great Hall, you looked furious about something," there was a look in her eyes that Draco had never seen before in anyone looking at him, she was worried for him.

"I'm surprised you noticed," he said angrily, hating himself the moment he had said it. What was the matte with him? Why was he incapable of being nice to her?

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, a slight frown creasing her milky skin.

"Well you were wrapped around Weasley pretty tightly," he could have kicked himself, "So are you two going out or what?" his voice was almost a shout now.

The concern in her hazel eyes was quickly extinguished to be replaced by white hot anger, "For your information me and Ron went out once, over a year ago, but I broke it off with him because we were not right for each other, we were better off as friends."

Draco couldn't meet her eyes, deep down he knew he had known this.

"Why do you even care? What's it to you if I'm dating Ron?"

He didn't answer; he didn't really know himself why he cared. He paused, "I don't know," he stammered, deciding on the spot that he had to tell her the truth, "It just does. I don't know why, I just feel very possessive of you. I didn't like it that he was touching you like that, you don't belong to him."

"What and I belong to you?" her voice wasn't angry, it was curious. This was a side of Draco she did not recognise, all the anger and lies and deceit were gone, this him at his rawest form.

"I don't know," he said again, but suddenly his brain seemed to whirl into action, and he ran from the room, his pale cheeks blushing furiously.

Hermione stood there completely numb, not sure what to do or what had just happened.

**I know it wasn't very long and wasn't my best writing, but I will update the next chapter ASAP and it will be much better. Please Rate and Review, I'll reply to all Reviews. Thanks so much for reading and I'm sorry once again for the massive delay. xxx**


	6. Flickers of Passion

**Hi everyone, thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews for my last chapter, I can't tell you how happy they made me to hear that you all love my story so much, it made my day I can tell you :D I hope you like this chapter and please review it again. Thank you so much. Love you all xx**

**Chapter 6**

Draco's bedroom door slammed shut. Hermione gazed after him wondering what on earth had just happened. She suddenly realised that her feet were carrying her after him without her say so; she reached the door and turned the handle. She peered into the room and saw that absolutely everything was green and silver, from the bedcovers to the wardrobe. She looked around and saw Draco sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. She walked slowly over, shutting the door behind her. She sat tentatively next to him, not sure how he would react, but was relieved to find that he did not flinch away.

"What did you mean?" she asked quietly, looking down at her lap.

Draco didn't say anything; his fists were clenched.

"Did you mean that I belong to _you_?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I don't know," Draco snapped, he sighed, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I do that."

"It's ok," said Hermione gently.

"It's not," he said, angry with himself, "You've never done anything to deserve the way I've treated you for the past seven years. It was cruel and unnecessary and I can never express how sorry I am."

Words failed Hermione; she had never in her wildest dreams ever thought that she would get an apology for the way she had been treated. She smiled,

"You have no idea how much that means."

Draco looked up, he had never noticed how radiant her smile was or what a delicate shade of chocolate her almond shaped eyes were, she was beautiful. He leaned closer, the scent of her lavender perfume filling his nose. He licked his lips nervously. Hermione's breath became fast as she realised what he was doing, she smiled as she too leaned in. His silver eyes were dazzling in the light from the torches surrounding them. They stopped inches from each other and Draco tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His touch was tender as his fingers brushed against her cheek. He waited, not sure if he should do what every particle of his body was screaming for, but Hermione took matters into her own hands and their lips touched.

Fireworks seemed to go off in Draco's brain, he had never experienced anything like it, the soft yet firmness of her lips was exhilarating and for the first time in his life everything, but the girl in front of him, was wiped from his mind. There was nothing in the world but himself and Hermione. This was how it should always have been. He leaned in closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck, winding her fingers through his white, blonde hair.

They broke apart and he saw that Hermione's cheeks were slightly pink. He took hold of her hand and whispered.

"How do you do this to me?"

She laughed and the sound was like bells, "I could ask the same thing."

"You make everything bad in my life go away just by being close to me. I feel like myself in a way I never have before."

"I thought it was just me who felt like that," she said, squeezing his hand, "I've never liked anyone the way I like you."

Draco's grin faded, he had just remembered something, "But we can't ever be together."

"Why?" asked Hermione, taking back her hand and giving him a stern look, he definitely knew how to kill a moment, "Old habits die hard?"

He didn't meet her disapprove gaze, "Those habits have been in my family for thousands of years."

"Then isn't it time for a change?" she demanded.

"I can't," he said, his heart sinking at his own cowardice.

"Draco," said Hermione, her voice starting to sound angry now, "I've never felt this way about anyone in my life, but I'm not going to go running after you, if you are too embarrassed to be seen with me. I've got more pride in myself than that."

Draco winced at her words, "I wish it was different," he said feebly.

Hermione stood up looking hurt, "Yeah me to."

And with that she left the room.

The moment that door snapped shut Draco smacked himself over the head. What on earth had made him say that? What was wrong with him? He groaned as he threw himself backwards onto the bed.

**I cannot apologise enough about the absurd amount of time it took me to finish this chapter. I'm not going to lie, I just gave up on it, but the other day I was going through my files and found it again and I wanted to carry on. This isn't a particularly long chapter, but it's kind of just to get me back into the swing of things again. I hope I stay committed this time. Thank you and please review xxx**


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